Beware the Dog
by thatlassiegotglassed
Summary: "Not her-she'd never hurt you. You should beware the dog-in me." My take on the story we can only dream about. Tig and Kozik, their beloved Missy and what happens when you let yourself love something unconditionally.
1. Prologue

Chapter 1: Prologue

A yell ripped him from his cool sheets and peaceful sleep. Well, about as peaceful as one can get after a whole bottle of Patrone. He sat straight up—the small, dark room, stuffy even with the box fan in the corner on full blast. The one thing he always hated about California. The yell came again—deep and throaty—and it was like taking a cheese grater to his heart. He skipped dressing, the shorts were enough, and was down the hall as fast as he could move.

The door at the end of the hall was closed and he sent a quick prayer upward that it wasn't locked. Gemma would be pissed if he had to kick it in—she already had two new coffee tables on order for last week's brawl that he honestly could not remember who started. He tried the handle and it moved easily.

"Tig?"

The bedside lamp was on and a topless blonde was kneeling over his best friend, worry written on her face smudged with last night's make up. She looked up as Kozik walked in and bit her lip—seeming oblivious to the fact that he had a perfect view of her tits.

"I don't know—he just keeps making noise." She moved aside so he could come to the edge of the bed. "Is he dreaming?"

Kozik shook his head. Tig wasn't dreaming. Quite frankly, he didn't know if the man ever did—but dreaming was not the word for what this was. Tig's black curls were plastered to his head as droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead. Goosebumps had broken out on his bare chest and arms, almost like he was fighting the worst of fevers.

The sheets were balled at his side and Kozik knocked them to the floor in order to take his friend by the shoulders. "Tig?" he said steadily. "Hey man—come on."

He turned to ask the hooker to leave right as a fist collided with his jaw. Tig's right hook was nasty even when he was asleep and knocked him on his ass beside the bed. The blonde screamed as Kozik spat on the floor and rubbed his face—thank god Tig had taken his rings off before bed.

"You might wanna-" he gestured to the door and she hurried out, still practically naked and most likely into the arms of another club member—he had bigger problems than a frightened piece of ass.

He cracked his neck and stood again—Tig was still making noise, quiet whimpers followed by gravely groans that sounded painful, breath coming a little too fast. Kozik tried again. He kept back about an arms length and nudged the sleeping man between the shoulders, pushing the unruly black hair back from his ears and speaking quietly.

"Man, come on. It's me." No response. He was half tempted to throttle him until he woke up, perhaps beat him with a pillowcase like when they were young, but he refrained. Never wake a sleep walker, right? This had to be along those same rules. Hell if he knew.

"Need help, Ko-zee?" A thick Scottish accent said from the doorway. Chibs tucked a cigarette behind his ear and let his hands rest on his hips, ready to lend a hand.

"No, I got this."

"Want me to call Clay?"

"I said I got this!" Kozik snapped as Tig growled again.

Chibs raised his hands in slight defense. "Just a suggestion."

Kozik sighed and nodded, his own small apology. He liked the Scot—probably the most out of any of the others—and he was just trying to help.

"I got this, thanks." He stopped as Chibs started to turn and rubbed the back of his neck. "Um—there's a naked blonde running around somewhere—make sure she's okay."

Chibs smirked—the scars on each cheek dimpling as he gave a nod. "Aye, now that I can handle."

Kozik shook his head and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. He thought about his next move as Tig jerked and gripped the pillow. He desperately did not want to be punched again.

He held his jaw and hurried to the door, putting fingers in his mouth and letting out a short high pitched whistle. "Miss-hay!" he called and there was a pause before the sound of thick nails fighting for traction on the hardwood brought a smile to his face.

A tan and black bundle of energy barreled down the hall towards him, tongue flapping, ears standing tall and Kozik gave her a quick pat before moving out of her way. He pointed to the bed and snapped his fingers. "Get him," he said gently and she was all too happy to comply.

The German Shepard ran at the bed and bounced on the mattress, nose-diving under Tig's pillow and waggling her butt as if they were playing hide and seek. She stayed still, determined to have him notice her, but when Tig didn't move, she plopped her head on his chest. She whimpered—licking his face and nudging his cheek with her leathery nose.

Kozik chuckled. She knew how to work her old man, that was for sure. She practically had Gemma beat when it came to that skill.

Tig opened his eyes slowly, a confused expression fading to one of affection as he nosed her back. "Hey baby," he said gruffly, giving her a scratch behind the ears.

Delighted at his undivided attention, she nosed her way under his arm and stretched the length of his body, tucking her tail along his hip. She knew—she always did—and Kozik smiled a little sadly. As he shifted, it drew Tig's attention away from Missy and he looked at him with another confused face—dark eyebrows pulling together.

"What are you—Is something wrong?" he glanced at the clock, no doubt wondering what club shit had gone down in the middle of the night and if it required dragging his ass from the comfort of his battered mattress. They both looked to the red glow of the bedside clock—4 AM—this time of night should not fucking exist.

Tig sat up and scratched his chest, running both hands through his hair and carefully trying not to disturb Missy.

"It happened again didn't it?" he asked. Kozik nodded. He gestured to Kozik's head, spotting the split lip. "And that?"

"Nah—this-" Kozik touched it, heat pulsating from the shallow cut and he fought back a wince. "No, this—I-"

"You're a shitty liar." He ran a hand over Missy's fur and watched his fingers part lines down her back.

A silence fell and Kozik contemplated slipping out the door while Tig was somewhat distracted. His friend, a man not known for his particularly warm demeanor, nuzzled the dog, nose to nose and pulled back with a scrunched face.

"Jesus—she smells like bourbon."

Kozik chuckled and crossed his arms over his flat chest. "Wonder where she gets that from?" he asked arbitrarily.

Tig continued to rub Missy, shaking her head back and forth between his hands and speaking to her directly. "Was it top shelf? It better be. None of that shit behind the counter Piney gives to his second-rate hookers."

Missy barked and apparently that was a 'yes' because Tig praised her again and tucked her under his arm, wiping a bit of dust off her nose. He spoke to her like he would a person. Not like one coos at a child but as if her chocolate eyes could comprehend everything he said. And who knew, she probably could. It made Kozik smile again.

With a bite of his lip, Kozik did slip out into the hallway-silently pulling the door closed behind him while Tig was distracted. It went without being said—this wouldn't be the last time he was pulled from sleep to come to the rescue of a man who would never need it outside the world of his own nightmares.

Kozik passed the Scot's room—hearing a feminine giggle and a stereotypical "Aye Lassie" from behind the door—at least someone was having a good time. Alone once again, in his own room, he curled under his patchwork quilt and hoped for sleep but received nothing but worry.

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Reviews are needed and appreciated! This will be slow going at first because I have too much shit going on. But hopefully I will get it rolling soon.


	2. Smarter Than Most

Chapter 2:

Clanking and cursing were the main sources of noise to come from behind the walls of the Teller-Morrow garage. Today was no different as Tig threw the wrench to the ground and fought the urge to put his foot through the 4-cylinder engine that was causing him grief. Hand swollen from the night before, he was having a rough time getting his knuckles under the piston and this was the third time he had nearly smashed his first two fingers. He needed those.

It was Friday, and he had big plans for the bar in town and the strip joint that had opened up right on the outskirts of Charming. Hooray for the fucking weekend.

"Fucking—just dammit—bitch." He wiped his hands on a ratty shop towel and threw a handful of insults at the chrome as he fished in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes.

As soon as the cigarette caught, he felt his shoulders droop a little. He took a deep breath and rubbed his brow on his forearm—feeling instantly better.

"Hey, Tig. Need a hand?"

Tig took another drag before forcing his eyes open. The prospect in front of him was far too perky; he came to about Tig's shoulder and his sandy brown hair and pigeon chest would not make it the full year of initiation—he was sure of it. But the kid had begged and Clay had given in, sending him into the arms of Bobby to toughen up. What was his name? Jason maybe?

"Sure." He tapped the end of the cigarette on the top of his tool box gently, dropping the rest in his shirt pocket for later. "Bring me a 10 inch crescent wrench. I think Clay jacked mine."

The kid nearly wet himself with the realization that Tig had spoke to him, let alone given him a task and nodded till Tig was sure his brain would rattle loose. Missy lounged beside his tool chest, thick, rubber toy held daintily between her paws while she ravaged it with her teeth. Tig rubbed behind her ears and hoped she wasn't laying in a puddle of motor oil—cleaning it out of her fur was a bitch.

He admired her markings, letting the shop behind him crumble away—things had a way of doing that when she was around. And yet, she didn't even look up, continuing to chew and oblivious to the fact that she was the only thing holding him solid. After Kozik had left the night before, Tig had curled around Missy and laid awake until his alarm had forced him out to the garage. Missy had slept like a log, snoring quietly and allowing him to use her as protection from the nightmares that lay behind his eyelids.

"Here, got it."

Tig looked up and felt his lip curl in a particularly nasty way as he looked at the socket wrench in the kid's hand. Clearly not what he had asked for.

"Oh really?" he said with a bite of snark at the end.

The kid's confidence vanished as he looked at the tool and bit his lip. "Uh—well-It's-"

Tig shook his head and looked back down without another word to the prospect. He took the toy from Missy gently and made her focus. "Hey," he snapped his fingers and she sat up obediently. "Go get daddy a 10-inch." She cocked her head to the side and he repeated a little louder and snapped in the direction of the back of the shop. "10-inch."

She trotted off to the back and both men waited for her return. While the prospect was gawking at Tig and clutching his pathetic little socket wrench, Tig saw Chibs meet Missy off to the side. The Scot stooped, put something in her mouth, and then winked over his sunglasses before walking towards the office.

The dog came back to her master, bursting with pride- although she probably didn't understand why—as she dropped the tool in his open palm.

"But—she-" the kid sputtered as Missy swished her tail and panted up at him. "How did you-"

"Don't sweat it kid," Tig said as he thumped the end of the wrench against the prospect's chest. "She's smarter than most people." He pulled his half finished cigarette out of his shirt and patted his leg as Missy came to his side and followed him into the open lot.

"And get that piston off! Mrs. Whats-her-face will be here around noon and I'm not going to be the one to tell her it's not ready." He chuckled, pleased with him self as well as happy he didn't have to deal with the piece of shit engine. Things were looking up.

* * *

"How's he doin', baby?"

Kozik jumped from his leaning spot on the wall next to the office of Teller-Morrow. Gemma's velvety voice came up behind him and she crossed her arms under her breasts, straining the buttons on her purple top that was just this side of too tight. He fought not to notice and turned his eyes back to the taller, blue eyed man at the edge of the lot—lighting up for the third time in almost 45 minutes.

He shook his head. "It's worse."

"I figured as much," Gemma stepped down from the office, using his shoulder for support as her boots hit the rougher concrete. "He's been a walking chimney all morning and the pussy that leaves his room, lately, has been less than satisfied."Gemma adjusted her purse on her shoulder and kept her hand on Kozik's arm, eyes fixed gently on Tig. "I thought we were done with this shit?"

"He was," Kozik rubbed his chin, stiff whiskers only noticeable when he ran his hand down his neck against the grain. "It always resurfaces when he talks to Colleen."

Gemma cursed beside him, finally letting go to dig her own cigarettes out of her bedazzled black bag. Her bangles clinked against the side as she burrowed through the contents and Kozik glanced over at her.

"I heard him on the phone the other day—she's threatening to take the girls."

"Hasn't she already?" Gemma mumbled.

Ever since Tig's last span in prison with Bobby and Piney, Colleen had gotten worse. Kozik didn't know the half of it, and quite frankly, he didn't want to. All he did know, was that it was eating his friend from the inside out.

"Well—but like for good this time. I don't know." He rubbed his eyes and felt a weight settle in between his shoulder blades, like he shouldn't be talking about this with Gemma. She had a knack for storing the tiniest detail and using it to her advantage. "Look, I gotta-" He gestured to the shop and started to walk away when her voice brought him up short.

"And what about your little problem?" She threw her bag back over her shoulder, giving up the hunt for her smokes and eyed him like a hawk.

"What problem?" Kozik stopped and faced her again, eyebrow raised.

The side of her lip tilted up, a mix between amusement and stern mother-like authority. She stayed silent, brushing her dark hair back from her shoulder and making him increasingly uncomfortable with nothing more but her interrogating stare. When she finally walked up to him, nearly chest to chest, pressing close so she could lower her voice, he felt his body go rigid.

"He needs _you_ and this club needs _him_. And I need to know you'll have your hand around his and not around a teaspoon and a needle."

Kozik stepped back suddenly. The urge to shove her from him strong enough that he clenched his fists at his sides. You never put hands on someone's old lady, and doing it to Gemma—well, Clay would have his head.

He stood and gaped at her, heart feeling like a rock in his chest and he shook his head hard enough it put a few wisps of hair in his eyes. "That's not me anymore, Gemma. Tig knows that—I wouldn't-"

"Good." She cut him off giving him a pat on the arm and a satisfied smirk settling on her maroon lips. "Just checking, baby." She slipped that word in at the end and he felt sick. He watched her walk away, swinging her hips like the deadly creature that she was. The way she could strike him then stroke him was mesmerizing—there was definitely a reason she was the queen.

Tig looked up as Gemma came to his side, pulling the keys to her Caddy out of her pocket and stopping to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Morning, sweetheart." She brushed his curls back on one side with her free hand and he smiled back. Her fingers touched the healing gash on the side of his face and she frowned, probably realizing who had a hand in breaking the clubhouse coffee table.

"Hey—don't. You should see the other guy." He chuckled and gave her arm a squeeze. She continued to thread her fingers through the edges of his hair and he sighed in content. "Where are you going?"

She stopped, hitting the button and unlocking the Cadillac with two short beeps. "Gotta go pick up a few things for the clubhouse."

"Have the prospect do it," Tig said.

"Nah. I need bird food for Louie and it's been awhile since I've had the Caddy to myself." She smiled as he stepped up and opened the door for her. Gemma's car had been in the shop for the last few days and he and Chibs had spent plenty of their free time detailing the back. She swore it had been an accident when she backed it into the much smaller car of an ex-high-school girlfriend but Tig didn't buy it. However, he had ordered the paint and did the work for free—using it as an excuse to bond and drink with the Scot on Clay's property.

"Keep an eye on Clay for me. And don't let him trump through the papers in the office—I just sorted everything."

"Yes ma'am." He said with a nod as he closed her door. As she drove through the gate he couldn't help but shake his head—Clay had his hands full that one.

He stooped to pick up a stick at his feet and whistled as he flicked his wrist and sent it flying across the lot. Missy bounded after if happily, tongue flapping with each spring in her step. He was thankful his old lady was much less maintenance.

* * *

As the sun set hours later, Tig lowered the door on his section of the garage and heaved a sigh of relief. He had time to shower, put Missy in the house and head out for the night. Maybe he'd take Chibs and the new kid—he was sure they could teach him a thing or too, maybe even get him laid. He hadn't seen Kozik for at least an hour, he'd probably wind up skipping the shower just to hunt him down.

"You doing alright Tiggy?" Chibs said as he cupped his hands and lit a cigarette, his cheeks puffed slightly as it caught and Tig saw his scars move in and out with the motion.

He was tired, that was for sure—having not slept much in about a week- his bad shoulder hurt like it always did when the weather was about to change, but all of that could be fixed at the bottom of a bottle. He planned on sleeping very well in about 5 hours.

"Yeah, I'm good. You want to come out with Kozik and I?" He said hooking his thumbs on the edge of his belt.

"Body shots at the Purple Hippo?" He flicked his ashes with a small orange glow as he looked up with a smile.

"You know it." Tig nodded.

"Hmm—I'm game. First lap dance on you, eh? Since I am the guest." He smirked and flinched back as Tig punched him in the arm. They shared a laugh until the office door slammed open and drew their attention.

Gemma stood in the doorway as a steaming Clay marched down the steps and headed towards them—hands clenched at his sides, black bandanna on, and his walk full of purpose. Chibs took another long drag before crushing the butt under his boot.

"Looks like we might have to reschedule." He said quietly.

Tig's stomach sank at the thought of whatever shit Clay was about to throw at him interfering with his big plans. The problems in this god awful town never seemed to take a break. He reached down to rub his hand across Missy's ears, keeping his tone even as Clay approached.

"What's goin' on, boss?" he said as Clay pointed at him.

"I need you." He did the same to Chibs and added, "Both of you. Find Bobby and get your bikes-"

Tig had to bite his lip to keep from flat out groaning like a disappointed child. "No, man—come on Clay, I w-"

"Mayans."

Tig froze. All Clay had to utter was that one word and his mind changed gears. He took off his mechanic's shirt, knowing his kutte was in the truck and nodded. This wasn't an errand, this was business.


	3. The Purple Hippo

A/N: I own nothing. You guys ready for some sad bro time? Reviews are appreciated.

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Chapter 3:

The Purple Hippo lived up to half of it's name. The brick building was wedged on the corner of some long abandoned street on the outskirts of Charming and it was, in fact, painted a bright, orchid-purple. However, there were no hippos in sight. The only animals here walked on two legs and jerked it in the corner to the techno rhythm while they got sloshed off 1-dollar jell-o shots. Basically, it was the classiest place this side of Oakland.

They pulled up one by one and parked their bikes in a line down by the far corner of the building. Tig walked his Dyna backwards and each deep grumble switched off in sequence, leaving the parking lot eerily silent except for the muffled thumping of the party behind them.

Tig stowed his helmet and gloves before rubbing a few stray dog hairs from his kutte. Gemma had offered to take Missy for "girl time"-whatever the hell that meant—so they could leave straight from the lot. Missy had jumped on him for a goodbye before hopping in the Caddy. He just hoped Gemma didn't try to paint her claws again, it was a nightmare to get off the first time.

"I don't see any bikes," Kozik observed.

"Chibs-" Clay said, checking to make sure his piece was stuck securely in the small of his back. "Take Kozik and check the back."

"Aye," the Scot nodded and adjusted his kutte, making sure the leather did its best to hide the custom double holster he had strapped to his chest.

"What are we looking for, Clay?" Bobby said as he struggled to keep his jeans up over his growing beer belly. His scraggly hair was getting out of hand and was in desperate need of a trim, but Tig imagined he didn't have time. The club hadn't seen him in almost a week as he ran from gig to gig to help pay the shady lawyer handling his second divorce—he looked tired.

"Got a tip from Unser," Clay started as they walked up the path to the front door. "The new Prez' might have started his own little prostitution ring."

"Jesus," Tig snarled. "In Charming?" Anyone who had any sense knew better than to pull something so ballsy—for over three decades, Charming belonged to the Sons. The new President of the Mayans was either very stupid or—no, there was no 'or', he was stupid.

"And where there is illegal pussy," Clay started.

"It's bound to be coated in gutter-glitter." Bobby finished.

There was only one way to find out. With silent agreement the three of them walked up the small ramp to the purple velvet coated door. Tig went first.

He had been in numerous strip joints and this was like any of the others. The first thing he always noticed was how dark it was—walking slower just to give his eyes the extra moments to adjust. The lights on the stage and placed strategically over the bar allowed little sight past one's knees—which was always a good thing. No one wanted to know what was on the floor of some of these places.

The main stage in the middle of the room was a round dais connected to a runway, and was disappointingly vacant. The two side stages were occupied by two slow moving newbies—girls not even half naked and most likely new enough that they had not earned the right to wrap their legs around the main pole.

It was too early for it to be packed and a few stragglers ordered their drinks and claimed their dark corners to wait for the show to really start.

"I don't see any colors." Bobby said, sliding on his reading glasses to battle the low light.

"Yeah, better head to the back. Check on Chibs and Blondie." Clay mumbled and they both moved towards the bar.

Tig stayed put—fists clenching as a busty redhead passed by him with a tray. She smelled like cotton candy, sweet and sickening but begging to be licked. She glanced at his kutte and held the tray down, pressed against her stomach in a way that almost pushed her breasts up out of her top.

"Can I get you something, big boy?" She smiled—eyes hovering over his 'Sergeant at Arms' patch. Each member of the club knew the kutte was a better pussy magnet than the most expensive of sports cars, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't used it as such more than once.

"Nah, doll. Maybe later." He sent her on her way, surprised at his own restraint and Bobby chuckled.

"What are you thinkin', Tigger?"

"That getting my dick sucked sounds a lot more fun than looking for a bunch of Mexi-assholes." He paused to stand on his toes and adjust the front of his jeans before nodding to the back of the club. "Let's go."

They barely made it passed the bar before two large men stepped out of the back room. Their eyes widened in panic before they spoke in rapid Spanish and pulled their guns. So much for being subtle. Tig pulled first, faster than the other two by a mile and aimed between the bigger one's eyes.

"Don't do it," he said sternly over the music.

The Mayan was jittery—hand around his gun shaking as his eyes darted between his partner and Tig. He had to be a newly patched member or else he was tripping on something. His arm jerked and he squeezed. The bullet sounded like a bomb going off inside the concrete walls and Tig's ears started ringing as soon as he ducked.

The handful of people in the club scrambled for the door as the cotton-candy-waitress screamed and practically tripped over Bobby, rendering him useless. Tig fired and took out both men at the kneecaps, painful as hell and enough to make them both forget about their guns as they dropped like a puppet with it's strings cut. A few shots fired from the back and Tig stood back up ready to sprint at Clay's instruction.

The bartender reached for the phone and Clay put his large hand on the receiver. "Nah-ah. I wouldn't do that."

Bobby untangled himself from the redhead and shoved her in the direction of the door as the place emptied. "Where the hell is Chibs? He's more skilled at handling distressed pussy." Bobby joked as he sucked the back of his hand and shook it out—scratches appearing where she had clutched him like a maniac.

"It's a Scottish thing, broth-ah." Chibs said as he pushed passed the doorway curtain and threw another Mayan at Tig's feet. He tossed a dime bag of coke on the bar and pushed his hair back from his face. "About 200 of these in the back. Small scale but has potential. No sign of a pussy trade, but that doesn't mean anything."

Bobby walked forward and dipped his finger in the bag before touching it to the tip of his tongue. "Whew—shit. That's good stuff." He nodded to Clay before stepping back so their President could get to the men on the floor.

The youngest one with the shaky trigger finger was holding his knee and mumbling rhythmically as blood started to seep though his fingers. Tig smirked—he'd got him good.

Clay crouched and cracked his knuckles. "You dealing in Charming?"

The Mayan kept mumbling in a language none of them spoke. Tig assumed he was praying—wise choice, the bastard would need all the help he could get.

Clay punched him square in the face and he shut up. He waited till he raised his head once more before asking again, "Listen—amigo." He spat and the guy looked him in the face. "Are you dealing in my town?"

The Mayan shook his head over and over, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he desperately wanted to give Clay whatever he asked for despite the language barrier. Clay had heard enough—the evidence was there and he stood. He nodded to Chibs and Kozik.

"Kill 'em. Leave one alive to send a message to our resident Mexi-prince."

Chibs and Kozik each fired one shot into the heads of the other men on the floor—quick and clean. The third one slumped—passed out and likely scared shitless. Clay hopped up on the bar stool and took out a fat cigar, popping it between his lips and striking a match.

He puffed, smoke curling around the stogie like a stocky dragon before removing it and continuing his orders. "Burn the bodies. And dump that sack of shit on the Napa border. And when you do," He picked up the bag of coke, tied it and tossed it to Chibs. "Give him a good sugar coating."

Clay smiled around his cigar—a look that was all teeth and pure joy and Tig felt himself chuckle. They would get the message.

As soon as they moved to gather the bodies the screech of a stacking chair being tripped over brought their attention to the right. They all turned, eyes on a small, scantily clad blonde who froze like a rabbit in a snare. She pushed the chair to the side and sprinted for the door but Tig closed the gap easily, wrapping his hand around her throat and pulling her back from the exit.

She fought, but he had over a foot height on her and held her easily as he drug her backwards into the club. She gripped his hand around her neck, he wasn't choking her, it was nothing more than a convenient handle.

"Shit." Bobby mumbled and Clay stood from the bar.

"What did you hear?" Tig barked at her and she started sobbing, holding onto him and shaking her head over and over. "Answer me!"

Kozik shifted uncomfortably as he put his gun away and stepped over the two dead Mayans. No one else moved as Tig turned her around to face him—he would handle it, he always did.

She stopped struggling, smart enough to know that she was overpowered by a long shot and settled for pushing her fingers between his hand and her neck for reassurance that he wouldn't snap it. Mascara trailed down her face as huge tear drops rolled off of her chin and landed on her upper chest.

"Nothing. I heard—I didn't hear anything." She sobbed as he pulled her to his face, her feet barely on the ground anymore.

"She's gonna be a problem." Bobby said quietly as he looked at Clay, prompting guidance from their silent leader.

"No she's not." Tig growled and released her neck. He spun her by the hair and put pressure on the back on her legs, sending her to her knees on the club floor. She whimpered quietly until he stuck the barrel of his gun inside her mouth—then she started screaming.

Nobody moved to stop him as he clicked the hammer back and she shrieked around the metal and looked up at him with big eyes. He felt his own grow cold as the world around him fell away and he entered that special place before a kill. He gripped the top of her hair so he wouldn't hit his own hand and steadied his arm before-

"Tig!"

Tig looked up, breathing slightly labored, like a lion preparing for a fight. Kozik moved up to him and shook his head slowly.

"Don't do it, man." He said quietly.

The girl closed her eyes, breathing through her mouth around the gun, trying to keep her lips from touching it as much as possible. Her high pitched cries were short and disturbing in the now silent club. Tig looked at his friend and realized he didn't know how much time had passed between now and when he put the girl on her knees. It was as if he blanked—only to resurface when Kozik said his name. It scared him. But he kept his face rock-solid and adjusted his grip on the gun.

He looked at Clay—who offered no help as he leaned on the bar and was entirely too focused on the smoldering ash hanging off the end of his cigar. Kozik said his name again and his attention was back to where it should be.

"Don't." Was all he said as he reached forward and put his hand around Tig's wrist. He didn't squeeze, his hand nothing more than a gentle weight as he guided Tig's hand and the gun out of the girl's mouth. As soon as the gun passed her lips, she fell to all fours and continued her muffled sobs.

Tig opened his mouth but no words came out so he closed it, and Kozik nodded again saying quietly, "I know."

When Kozik released him, his hand fell to his side. Kozik pulled the stripper up by her arm and shoved a twenty-dollar bill in her hand. "Get a cab. Get the fuck out of here. And you didn't see shit."

He pushed her hard in the direction of the door—adding one last scare as she nodded rapidly and left the club in a blur, slamming the door behind her. Silence fell between them all as Clay pushed away from the bar and stopped in front of Kozik.

He took a breath before saying deeply, "If she rats—I'll have your patch." He pointed back in the direction of Chibs and the bodies. "Now do what I told you."

"Understood." Kozik nodded quietly. Tig felt like he might throw up as his friend walked passed him without so much as a second look. He should say something—thank him, tell Clay to lay off, any of that sympathetic bullshit that Kozik loved as much as good scotch. But nothing came out.


	4. No More Than Usual

A/N: So forgot to mention-I have an awesome beta in the form of chibsfuckingtelford. She's great and is the reason your chapters are mistake free and coming out so quickly. Enjoy!

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Chapter 4:

Tig had picked up Missy and thankfully her claws were not "Kiss Me Red", which was apparently Gemma's color of choice lately. Both girls were lounged on the couch and Gemma had shoved her off gently as soon as Clay had walked in the door. He was almost certain the man of the house had seen it but he didn't say anything. Whatever Gemma wanted—she got.

Now that he was home, he plopped on the porch swing without even bothering to flip on the porch light. As Missy sniffed around the yard, he snapped off his wrist cuffs and laid them on the glass end table, rubbing his eyes and rocking slowly, his whole body thanking him for finally settling down. Now if he could just make it down the hall and into bed—it seemed so far away.

He must have dozed off because he jumped when he heard the unmistakable roar of a Harley coming down his driveway.

Missy barked and bounded across the yard as Kozik parked and flicked off his headlight, the dying engine letting the crickets be heard once again in the California heat. The only light was the half-moon that hung low in the sky and gave everything a silvery tint.

"Jesus Christ, why are you sitting in the dark like a gargoyle?" Kozik called as he swung his leg off of his bike and started for the porch.

"The porch light is all the way over there." He said simply, as if that justified his laziness.

All the boys constantly complained that he lived in the middle of nowhere but he didn't see the problem. He didn't have an old lady or kids in the house, so no one to commute for, and on the nights he worked or had club business, he just crashed in his room at the clubhouse. It was dark, it was quiet, and he liked it. Plus, no one bothered Missy, which was more important than anything.

Kozik came close enough to be seen and Tig groaned. He had Missy in his arms like a giant child that was much too hairy and much too old to be carried. Her paws wrapped around his neck as she nosed his face gently, looking at Tig with what he swore was the most human-like grin she had ever given him, as if she knew he wouldn't scold her.

"Why do you do that, man? She's too big. You're going to spoil her." Tig said sternly, his voice cracking at the end as the smile he was fighting broke out on his face.

"So?" Kozik bounced her up gently so he didn't lose his grip and she thumped her tail against his thigh with a rhythmic _whump whump._ "And no, she's not too big. Are you, pretty girl? Are you?" She licked his face with enthusiasm as he turned his attention to her, pulling back, not wanting a face wash of drool.

They both chuckled. Kozik settled his head on the side of Missy's shoulder, face buried in her fur, his own hair almost a perfect match for the more golden parts of her chest. He sighed, finding comfort in the texture of her fur against his cheek. Tig knew what he was doing, because he did it about a hundred times a day. He finally put her on the ground, gently, and she bounced up the stairs.

Kozik followed, standing awkwardly at the mouth of the porch before hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "What happened back there?" He prompted quietly as Missy plopped to the floor beside Tig, bony elbows knocking on the wooden boards.

Tig did not feel like having this conversation, but of course Kozik would want to. He scratched his head with both hands, mussing his own hair and pulling just a little to wake up. He wanted a smoke. He wanted his bed. He wanted to be alone. And yet, he knew that last part wasn't entirely true.

"You want a beer?" he said when he finally removed his hands from his face and stood.

"Yeah," Kozik answered.

Tig's house was surprisingly put together for a bachelor his age, who led his life. There was a coat rack that no one ever used but hey, he had it—that had to count for something. There was a rug in the hallway and a matching leather sofa set in the den. Everything in the rooms he loved most had splashes of blue in somewhat matching hues—he even had matching lamp shades. To Tig, it was homey and just about as classy as he got.

He tossed his keys, wrist cuffs and wallet in a bowl on the counter and went straight for the fridge. He had a 24-pack of some shitty silver-label boxed in the front and he shoved it to the back, instead, opting for the 6-pack of Grain Belt Premium. He handed a bottle to Kozik, who mumbled his thanks before opening the drawer with the bottle opener on the first try, like he lived there. Tig loosened the cap with the side of his largest ring before twisting it the rest of the way off.

"How'd you get here so fast?" Tig said, leaning against the counter.

Kozik rolled the bottle between his hands on the counter as if drinking the beer was a major life decision. "Bobby called in his prospect. Thought they'd teach him a thing of two." He chuckled. "I'm sure burning dead Mexicans is just what the kid wants to do on a Friday night."

"He better get used to it." Tig said grumpily. Great—Chibs and Bobby had called the prospect, to not only do his job, but to send Kozik after him like a babysitter. Fucking perfect. "They must think I'm a nut job." He said barely audible. He wasn't sure he gave his mouth permission to voice that concern and part of him hoped Kozik wouldn't hear it.

"No more than usual." Kozik joked, smiling slightly.

Tig didn't think it was funny. He shoved away from his spot on the counter and walked around the island into the open living room.

"Come on, man. You know what I mean." Kozik's smile left and he followed his friend.

Tig knew exactly what he meant. He was the pusher, the fixer; their resident bag of crazy that always got the job done and rolled in the blood until it was off of everyone's hands but his own. Surprisingly, that didn't make him feel any better. Imagine that.

"We're worried about you. _I'm_ worried about you." He added. "But you gotta tell me what's going on."

Tig took a rather large drink of his beer and watched as Missy plopped on her giant, fluffy bed in the corner. A lot was wrong with him. So much that he wasn't sure where to fucking start and he wasn't good at the whole 'talking' thing—not like Kozik. He chose to stay quiet.

"Is it the dreams again?" Kozik offered.

Tig said nothing. That was one of the things, for sure. After their second tour of duty together, the dreams had started. Although he wouldn't call them dreams, more like nightmares, and it was even worse after he got out of prison six months ago. But what could he do about them? Missy was the only thing that somewhat helped.

"Is it the club?" Kozik tried again.

There were a couple people that would argue the club was a problem, but Tig would tell those people to go straight to Hell. After JT's death, and not long after he was patched in, Clay had made him Sergeant at Arms, and he finally felt like he had a job worth doing- something that broke up the monotony of changing oil filters and rotating tires.

"Is it-" Kozik lowered his voice. "Is it Colleen?" He was suddenly very interested in downing the rest of his beer once he uttered the c-word and Tig clenched his teeth.

He had talked to Colleen in the last couple of days, and the fact that the bitch had such an effect on him that his brothers had noticed pissed him off more than he thought possible.

"The girls are getting big," He said running his finger around the rim of the bottle. "Doubt they even know who I am."

"Go see them."

"She won't let me."

"Have you tried?"

"I called."

"You called? That's it?"

"Yeah."

"Tig." Kozik gave him a disappointed look.

"Jesus Christ, Koz, are you going to start charging me by the hour?" Tig stood up and went to get another beer. He had called—wasn't that enough? As soon as he said 'hello' Colleen had all but slammed the receiver down on him. Divorced a year and some change and he had spent most of it on the inside while she cleaned up the mess. He understood her anger but, dammit, he was angry too.

He grabbed two more bottles, giving one to Kozik before lounging on the leather loveseat and holding the unopened bottle to his chest with a sigh.

Kozik didn't say anything. He just perched on the arm of the leather recliner and nudged Missy lovingly with the edge of his boot. She flopped on her side and rubbed her neck against his shoe with her eyes closed.

Tig felt the weight of what his friend wasn't saying pressing down on him like a boulder and he hated him for it. Hated how that blonde little punk could call him out on all of his bullshit without saying a goddamn word. But maybe he only felt this way because Kozik was right. They were his girls too.

"Maybe I could go up on Sunday." He grumbled, tossing the bottle cap on the coffee table.

"The girls are going to be excited." Kozik said. Tig opened his mouth to argue but Kozik continued, cutting him off without missing a beat. "Stop it. They know who their dad is."

In some ways, that was exactly what Tig was afraid of. There was no telling what their mother had said about him, and it made his stomach turn to think about those tiny hands and adorable eyes hating him before they should even understand what hate was.

Once he raised up, Kozik sat on the couch with a cushion between them, both men kicking off their boots and putting their feet on the coffee table in almost perfect unison. Both understood that the conversation was over. They finished the 6-pack and broke into the cheap stuff while they took turns flipping through the channels, pausing on crime dramas and commercials with busty advertisers. This was not what Tig had envisioned for his Friday night of glitter and debauchery, but somehow, this was even better.

* * *

When Tig opened his eyes it was dark, and he wasn't entirely sure where he was. He was still fully dressed except for his boots and his kutte- hell, he still had his rings on and he was very uncomfortable. The TV was on but muted, and by the multicolored glow he could tell he was in his own living room. That was a start at least.

He looked over and Kozik was passed out on his left. His friend had one leg flung over the arm of the couch and the other sprawled on the coffee table that was pulled flat against the cushion, legs spread like some sort of drunken hussie. Kozik's mouth hung open slightly as he snored the kind of snore that ensured the person was sleeping really well. Tig smiled.

Missy was on the cushion between them, curled in a ball with her tail and paws all tucked under her chin. Her ratty blanket was pulled up and slung sloppily in both of their laps, like she had made a feeble attempt to protect them from getting cold. He scratched her slowly so he didn't wake her up.

"Thanks, baby." He whispered.

He rolled on his back, draping his knees over the leather arm before settling his head on Missy's back haunch. Kozik had his hand resting on Missy's head- both men connected by the animal between them. Tig chuckled to himself in the darkness as a thought crossed his mind—if Kozik tried to pet him, the kid was getting a black eye.

He sighed and closed his eyes again. The sun was still down, but it was Saturday, and they had no where they needed to be. It wasn't until after he was almost asleep that he realized he hadn't had a single nightmare.


	5. The Tragers

**_A/N: So you should give chibcfuckingtelford . tumblr. com some love. She has been working extra hard betaing a ton of chapters for this fic in a short period of time. And she is doing an amazing job. Enjoy guys._**

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Chapter 5:

Tig put his 2000-Jeep Sport in park and shut off the engine. The silence ate at him, making him nervous until Missy started panting in the front seat now that the air was off. He looked at her and reached out, twisting her collar until it was centered.

"We should go home." He cranked down the window for some kind of ventilation while they were parked and added, "This is a bad idea. Don't you think?"

She just looked at him, tongue hanging out and big, brown eyes giving him the answer he did not want. When he didn't say anything else, she turned in the seat and stuck her nose out the crack in her own window, sniffing and drooling down the glass a little.

"You're no help." He mumbled as he pulled out his Nokia and punched some buttons. He hated this new goddamn cellphone trend—Clay could insist they have them, but he didn't have to be happy about it. He held it to his ear and let it ring.

"Yeah?" Kozik answered after a handful of seconds.

"I'm at the house." Tig said, pulling his knee up and leaning it against the steering wheel. He sunk down in his seat like he could make the entire vehicle disappear by slumping.

"What—do you want like a gold star or something?" Kozik retorted. "Sorry that was mean. I'm glad you went. Now go in."

When he said it like that, Tig felt like an idiot. He, of course, did not drive all the way up to San Jose to sit in his car, but it sure as hell sounded better than facing his ex-wife. He leaned back on the head rest and sighed into the phone. The whirr of a drill could be heard on the other end and was followed by cursing.

"Where are you?" He raised an eyebrow even though Kozik couldn't see.

"Teller-Morrow."

"It's Sunday." Tig said, even more confused by that response.

"Clay called me in."

Tig sat up and undid his seat belt, feeling his forehead crinkle as he spoke, "Tell him to fuck off, you don't work there."

"No but you do." Kozik said quietly and Tig stilled.

"Clay tried to call me in?"

"Yeah, must have been when you were passing through Watsonville. There's no goddamn service in the hills." He set down something heavy and waited until he had both hands free again before continuing. "Look, I told him I'd handle it, okay? I'll be done in 40 minutes—tops."

"I owe you." Tig mumbled, not particularly happy about it.

"Not if you march your happy ass up that porch and see those girls. It's fine. Now, go." The line went dead as Kozik hung up on him. Punk. He couldn't help but feel like his debt to Kozik was piling up by the minute. The kid had chose to stick around—away from his brothers and life in Tacoma—for Tig. Kozik said it was because he missed the California scene or some bullshit like that but Tig knew the truth and he felt guilty.

He followed the landscaping path up to the porch, large boots barely fitting on the individually placed cobblestone. Missy sat beside him, tail wagging slowly as he knocked on the glass pane of the front door, careful to keep his rings from clanking too hard.

"Coming!" Someone said from the inside along with the sound of feet hurrying to the door.

Colleen opened the door and Tig no sooner muttered a 'hello' before her palm collided with his cheek. He reared back, face stinging slightly and eyes wide in surprise as Missy jumped to her feet but didn't growl.

"Shit-" Colleen breathed, quietly. "I'm sorry." Her hand was partly over her mouth before she composed herself. Tig worked his jaw back and forth, perhaps over exaggerating the discomfort in his face while he thought of how to respond. "What—what are you doing here?"

Tig paused. How the hell did he do this? He hadn't seen her in six months and after all that time he couldn't think of anything to say.

"I—uh," he touched Missy's ears gently and forced himself to look at his ex-wife instead of at his feet. "I don't know."

Colleen gave a nervous glance over her shoulder before pulling the door closed and stepping out onto the porch. She crossed her arms, bringing Tig's gaze to her chest and a very small part of him felt like a pig.

"You don't know? Six months and you don't know."

"Colleen-"

"Don't Colleen me." She paused, taking a breath, slowly in through her nose and back out again. Tig thought she looked like she was counting. Jesus, maybe she was finally taking those anger management classes. He remembered, vividly, the day he suggested it—he still had the scar from it. "Why are you here?"

"Are the girls home?" Tig asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Surely that was explanation enough.

"No," She said curtly. "They're not."

They paused again and Tig's stomach dropped as small, girlish giggles were heard just on the other side of the door. Before he had much of a chance to be angry, Missy sprung to her feet and nosed the door open, running into the house.

"Missy!" Colleen and Tig both called in unison, but she was gone.

Through the open door, Tig watched as Missy stood over a squirming Dawn Trager, giving her a bath of kisses while she laughed. Missy's tail wagged so hard it looked like at any moment it would pop off, but she didn't slow down as she sniffed and nosed and continued to lick the kid happily.

Colleen had the grace to look ashamed as she was caught in her own lie. She held her arm out, saying quietly. "Come on."

Missy backed up and Dawn scrambled to her feet, eyes getting wide and soon as Tig cleared the doorway. "Daddy?" She said quietly.

Tig hooked his thumbs in his belt as Colleen shut the door. Did he hug her? Was he allowed? He wanted nothing more than to close the gap and scoop her up but he made himself refrain, terrified that she would run screaming.

"Hey, baby," he said, lip tilting up on one side in a half-smile. Any fears he had vanished as the kid ran passed Missy and collided with his legs, standing on her tip-toes to wrap her arms tightly around his waist. She climbed him like a tree as he stooped to pick her up, saying 'daddy' again quietly. Tig Trager did not cry but damn if he didn't consider it as she wrapped those twiggy arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

"I missed you," he forced out as he bounced her a bit, coaxing her to wrap her legs around his middle so he didn't drop her.

"Missed you too." She mumbled, forehead slipping lower and plastering to his kutte. He held her tight. She was heavier than he remembered but still his baby girl. He couldn't think of how old she even was and he felt like a failure.

"Fawn," Colleen said, looking passed him and he turned around. Fawn Trager was peeking out around the hallway, most of her body hidden around the corner that lead to the back of the house. "Come here." She added gently and Fawn shook her head. Colleen tried again and his other daughter stayed rooted to her spot behind the wall, safe and away from him. It only made him hold Dawn tighter as he looked away.

"Collie-" he cleared his throat and shook his head. "Collie it's okay. Leave her be."

Colleen crossed her arms again and nodded. "I—uh." He could tell that every bone in her body wanted to tell him to get the hell out of her house, but she looked at Dawn, still buried in his arms, and she bit her lip. "Do you want a soda?"

"Sure." He leaned his head to the side, cheek against Dawn's hair, and closed his eyes. Kozik had been right—big, fucking, surprise.

* * *

An hour later he was on the couch, Dawn still attached to his leg and his soda full and long forgotten on the coffee table. Tig was content to sit while his daughter climbed over him, switching positions to face him and excitedly tell him all about school and the normal day of a 6-year-old. In between her stories she would curl in the crook of his arm and snuggle him until his leg started to sweat under her, but he never complained.

"And then, Charlie got his recess taken away because he stole my crayon." Dawn said, at about 100 miles-per-hour.

"That sounds serious." Tig nodded, keeping his face straight as he sympathized over her stolen crayola.

"It was! It was the green one," Dawn sat up straighter on his lap and looked him in the face. "We were coloring frogs. How can I color frogs without a green crayon?"

She was so serious. The injustice that this Charlie had done to her was unthinkable in her mind and Tig was about to bust a gut from keeping in his laughter. He bit his lip and patted her arm gently, "Did you beat him up?"

"Daddy!" Dawn laughed and pushed his shoulder.

"Do you need me to take care of him?" Tig said, smiling now so Colleen wouldn't think he was serious.

"No," Dawn shook her head, dark hair flying everywhere as she continued to giggle. She was talkative and smiling and just as perfect as he remembered her. Tig agreed not to beat up her Kindergarten nemesis and gathered her back against his chest, holding her close again.

Colleen was watching them like a hawk, not saying much to let their daughter catch him up on the last six months. He wasn't sure if she was enjoying the talks or if she wanted to snatch Dawn from him and run. He chose not to think about it.

Dawn reached down as Missy came up to them and nosed her leg.

"Does she still do the cheese-puff thing?" Dawn asked excitedly and Tig laughed.

"Yeah." He nodded. If you tossed just about anything in the air, Missy would catch it. But the girls had always called it the "cheese-puff thing", since that was their snack of choice to share with the dog.

"There's some in the kitchen," Colleen said quietly and finally cracked a smile as Dawn scrambled off of Tig and ran into the other room-Missy quick to follow.

"Not too many!" Tig called over the rustling of the chip bag. "She gets really bad gas and I'll make her sleep in your bed!" He chuckled deeply as Dawn laughed and told him 'not to be gross'.

Colleen shook her head slowly, lips pursed as she looked at him with a confused expression. He was about to ask her what she meant by that but stopped as Fawn got off the floor and slowly came over to him.

She hadn't said a word, content to sit on the floor and read while her younger sister was the center of attention.

"Hey, baby." He said quietly, terrified that if he said the wrong thing, she would sprint back down the hall.

Ever since Dawn had been born, she had been a 'daddy's girl', but Fawn—she was another story. His oldest was quiet, reserved and not as 'touchy-feely'. She preferred to sit, buried in a book usually, but mostly kept to herself and didn't need anyone's help. At times, she reminded him of himself.

She sat on the couch, pulled her legs up under her and turned towards him. He knew his face was probably slack with caution, as if even a blink would ruin this moment. He swallowed hard, the noise sounding thunderous to his own ears.

Fawn twisted her hands in her lap, saying quietly, "I'm glad you're back."

Tig felt like he had been hit with a truck. That was the closest he was going to get to affection from Fawn, but he would take it. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, a quick peck before leaning against his shoulder and looking at her feet. He smiled and put his arm around her.

"Me too," he said and gave her a small squeeze.

No sooner had Fawn settled against him, his cell phone rang. God dammit. He mumbled an apology and moved her from his embrace to dig it out of of back pocket. It was exactly who he expected it to be—Teller-Morrow.

Colleen's face closed down as he answered, her emotions carefully masked as she went into the kitchen to check on Dawn and Missy.

"Yeah?" Tig said.

"Church. 20 minutes." Clay growled and Tig's stomach sank.

"Clay, I'm in San Jose."

"Well, then we'll have it when you get here, so, book it." He hung up and Tig held the phone to his ear for a few moments. It was Sunday. What the hell had happened that he had to be there now? This was his day off, and now it was his day with his girls. Colleen would be pissed—even if she hadn't wanted him here originally, she had warmed up to it.

"I—uh," He stood slowly and pocketed his phone. "I gotta go."

Fawn didn't look up and he felt like a monster. She had opened up and maybe for a brief moment, she didn't expect him to disappoint her but he did.

"Of course you do," Colleen said, leaning against the doorway that lead to the kitchen. Dawn stood behind her mom, petting Missy, both of their faces slightly dusted with cheese-puffs.

"Look, I can come back." He wanted to come back and the feeling surprised him. He could handle Colleen for the sake of the girls and knowing that made him dread their interactions less but she didn't seem impressed. "Colleen, I'm trying. I want-"

"Oh you are?" She moved and opened the front door, talking as she went. "And how long before you 'try' again? Six months? Eighteen? Next time you're on parole."

Tig winced. But she kept going.

"And how long are you going to run blow and bang crow-eaters for the 'King of Charming'?" She snapped.

They ran guns—but he didn't dare correct her. He doubted Dawn knew what 'blow' or 'crow-eater' even meant but it made him want to cover her ears. He ground his teeth instead. "Don't do this in front of them."

Colleen nodded. "No, you're right. I won't." She gestured towards the door and he snapped for Missy to follow. As soon as they were on the porch, she continued, "Because we're not doing this—at all."

Tig recoiled as the door slammed in his face, his actions leaving a bad taste in his mouth and her words putting an ache in his chest.


	6. Scottish Car Bombs

**_Summary and Author's Note: Chibs helps Tig with a little booze therapy. And of course, more Tig and Kozik feels. I apologize.-I was doing so well updating! Annnnnd then I got distracted by a gorgeous girl. :P haha it is not her fault but she also happens to be my beta-plus finals week is approaching. I have a lot of excuses okay?! Oh well, enough rambling-enjoy. Comments are thoroughly enjoyed._**

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Chapter 6:

By the time he got back into Charming the sun was setting. The ride home had been awful. He had been torn between wanting the radio loud enough to drown his brain and not wanting it at all, so he could vent to Missy. She listened, paws on the console, while he hit the dash more than once and ran a total of four stop-signs.

He felt better by the time he reached the garage, but barely.

"Tigger!" The Scot called as he bear-hugged him around the neck the moment he set foot in the clubhouse.

Tig chuckled as he wormed his way out of the hug. "You been drinking, man?"

"No-" Chibs opened his mouth, closed it, and finally gave up. "Aye. Just a bit."

Tig smiled and shook his head. When Chibs got alcohol in his system his accent got stronger and suddenly everyone's favorite game was trying to figure out what the hell he was saying. Most of the guys refrained from drinking till later out of respect for Gemma wanting as little damage done to the clubhouse as possible. Chibs did not have this rule—he was a lover, not a fighter and would much rather take something to bed than break someone's face, so, he got to start early.

"Watch this." He kept his arm around Tig and snapped in the direction of the bar. "Prospect!"

The kid took one look at Chibs and got down two glasses, he poured something in the bottom before filling the rest with a dark, rich-looking beer. Chibs pulled Tig to the bar and finally released him, "I've almost got him fully trained." He laughed and ruffled the kid's hair like a dog.

When the prospect dropped two shots in the bottom of the beers the froth sloshed out of the top and bubbled up the sides. It looked inviting in the way that he knew it would get him fucked up in no time.

"Irish car bomb?" Tig raised an eyebrow.

"No, no, no, no," Chibs slid one to him and shook his head. "Scottish car bomb."

Tig flat out laughed. "Not sure that's a thing."

"It is now. And it's better." Chibs said stubbornly. "Now drink."

The doors to the meeting room opened loudly enough that Clay had all of their attention instantly. He jerked his thumb back into the room—a direct order for them to haul ass inside. Chibs told the prospect to keep the drinks cold. Apparently the Scot had big plans for getting him drunk after the meeting—Tig was absolutely fine with that.

Tig took his spot on Clay's right with Piney on the left and the rest of the boys filled in their respective seats. The reaper in the middle of the dark, oak table was daunting as the doors shut and the dimly lit chapel brought their attention to the center.

"Nice of you to join us." Clay said, not looking at Tig. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and flicked his heavy, silver lighter until the flame caught.

Kozik tensed and Tig hoped he wouldn't say anything stupid. They didn't need any hate from Clay, not with the Mayan shit they had going on.

"What's going on, Clay?" Bobby broke the silence and leaned back in his chair.

Clay lowered his cigar and blew out smoke. "Mayans have a sponsor." Everyone shifted uncomfortably as the news sunk in. "More blow is finding it's way into Charming and warehouses are being rented out like hotcakes just outside the border."

"So, they package it on the town line and have locals bring it in?" Tig raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Nords." Clay growled.

A collective 'Jesus Christ' came from a handful of the guys and Clay continued.

"I got Unser digging through the permits. Building codes, paperwork. Anything. Piney thinks we should have the law shut 'em down."

Piney nodded and Tig shook his head. "Nah—fuck that. Let's go shut them down, now."

"If Unser can't do it, then we will." Piney said. "This club doesn't need Nord blood on the door until we handle the new Mexi-prez."

Tig stayed quiet. The old man was right. They shouldn't walk in and start shooting—but sometimes, that was the best part.

"I think we should pay the new leader a visit. We got a name yet?" Chibs said, leaning forward on the table and rolling his own cigarette.

Clay nodded, "Marcus Alvarez. And as soon as we can get some intel, I'm thinkin' that's a pretty good idea."

"Until then, Kozik-" Piney started and Kozik looked up. "Wait until it's dark and take the prospect to the town line. Check around. Any traffic, new buildings—we wanna know."

"Alright, that's it. Go empty out the bar." Clay chuckled and hit the gavel on the dais. "And for God's sake, don't break the new coffee table. Gemma bitched for days."

There was deep laughter around the table as everyone filed out and Kozik came to Tig's side. He was practically bubbling with energy and Tig knew what was coming.

"So, how'd today go?"

"Fine. And then I ruined it." Tig tossed his keys to Chibs to put in the safe. He had a bad habit of losing them when these things went down.

Kozik didn't say anything else. He clapped his arm around Tig and squeezed once before joining him at the bar. They weren't talking about it, at least not now. He wanted to drink and drink a lot. Everyone had to work in the morning but he could fix cars in his sleep—he could certainly do it hungover.

* * *

Kozik watched as Chibs poured shot after shot down Tig's throat. After awhile he handed Tig a bottle of bourbon and let him take care of his own sobriety. Kozik wished he could fix whatever shit went down with Colleen today but all he could do was listen and he had a feeling Tig wasn't ready to talk.

He shook his head as Tig set the bottle on the table and buried his face in the rack of a crow-eater he had perched on his lap. No, he definitely wasn't talking tonight.

Kozik looked at his watch and nodded to the prospect. "Jacob, you ready?" The kid nodded and Kozik went down the hall to find his stuff. The boys had covered for him the other night after Tig's incident at the Hippo. Now, it was his turn.

He opened the door to his room to find the Scot had invaded his bed. "Jesus Christ, Chibs." Kozik ducked his head and averted his eyes but he had already gotten a full shot of his friend's ass. Chibs leaned up on the bed and pulled his jeans up, loose around his waist but at least everything was covered.

"You do know this is my room, right?" Kozik shook his head.

"It's closer," Chibs smirked and sat on the edge of the bed as a brunette knelt behind him. She pressed her breasts to his bare back and put her arms around his neck. "This is-" He gestured over his shoulder.

"Kat." She said silkily and gave him a nod.

"Like a tiger." Chibs purred and she laughed, letting her dark hair slide over his bare shoulder while she kissed down his back.

Yes, it was quite obvious Chibs had been hitting the bottle pretty hard. Kozik shook his head and searched the dresser for the keys. He heard a soft, feminine laugh and watched the girl nibble along the Scot's jaw. Part of him was disappointed he was going to miss another club party.

"Sorry, for-" Chibs cleared his throat, "Stealin' your bed. You wanna stick around and-?" He smirked and leaned over, grabbing one of his hand-rolled cigarettes.

"With you?" Kozik chuckled and gestured between him and the crow-eater. Chibs had to be barking mad, but the girl smiled and Kozik felt a little weak kneed.

"Aye," Chibs nodded.

"He's pretty," The girl murmured, her blood-red lips leaving marks in their wake as she dragged them along Chibs' ear.

The idea was borderline ridiculous and yet, maybe after a little tequila, not so ridiculous. He had tag-teamed once before, ages ago, and Tig made him promise never to speak of it. But, the prospect would be waiting. Clay and Piney would be waiting for the news of whatever they found on their border run tonight. Fuck. He swallowed hard and forced himself not to stare at her chest—which, from where he was standing, was perfect.

"I—uh—damn. No, but thanks." He babbled as he gathered his jacket and phone. "Rain check?"

Chibs chuckled, "Suit yourself."

The girl reached around and plucked the unlit cigarette from his grasp just as he was about to plop it between his lips. "Come here, big boy." She smirked and backed up on the bed.

Kozik forced himself out the door, shutting it harder than necessary behind him. Staying in that room sounded a hell of a lot better than riding in the dark doing bitch-work. His patience with Clay was wearing thin but he kept his mouth shut. If he gave Clay trouble, he would give Tig trouble, and Kozik didn't want that.

Jacob was perched on the bar stool closest to the door and he jumped up as Kozik made it to the end of the hall. "Let me find Bobby and then we're good to go." The kid nodded, remaining quiet and waiting for Kozik to tell him what to do—he was learning.

Bobby was on his first beer still, leaning on the pool table and laughing as Piney lined up his shot.

"Bobby?" Kozik stopped.

"Yeah, kid?"

"We're headed out. Could you do me a favor?" Kozik asked and Bobby put down his beer, giving him his full attention. "Keep an eye on Tig for me? Rough day."

Bobby nodded and they both looked to the couch, still occupied by the man in question. Tig had a girl under each arm and his tongue down one of their throats. It seemed like he was doing just fine. Missy laid at his feet looking unimpressed and Kozik felt sorry for her.

"You got it. I'm sure Missy'll run them off before too long and put him in bed." Bobby chuckled and Kozik nodded with a smile. He hoped that was exactly what happened.

"Thanks, man." He clapped the shorter man on the shoulder and nodded to the prospect. "Let's go."

* * *

By the time Kozik parked his bike, back from their night run around Charming, he was exhausted, wind-whipped and in need of a shower. They hadn't seen anything—found the warehouses Unser was talking about, but that was it. In the back of the club, he found Bobby in the bathtub, wearing a sombrero- he decided to skip the shower. Chibs was still in his bed, covered in red lipstick, arm slung over the pretty crow-eater and snoring like a freight-train. Perfect. He was going to have to remember to change the sheets in the morning.

With a heavy sigh, Kozik dragged his ass down to the end of the hall to Tig's room.

Tig was on his belly, still in jeans but he had managed to get everything else off. The box fan was humming in the corner and everything was peaceful—he wondered who helped him to bed. Missy laid on her rug at the foot of the bed, and she raised only her eyes as Kozik shut the door behind him. He kicked off his boots, kutte and all the things that could poke him, tossing them in a pile on the floor with a dull clank.

"Come on, man. Scoot over." Kozik said, lowering his voice in the dark room. He leaned down and put his shoulder to Tig's side and pushed.

Tig woke up just enough and looked confused, still half drunk and half asleep. "What are you—Kozik-" Tig groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow.

"Chibs is in my bed. Which, is fine—whatever. But he sleeps naked, and that's more of Scotland than I ever planned on seeing." Kozik slid under the top sheet and tossed his watch on the nightstand.

"Fine," Tig smiled into the pillow, he patted the middle of the bed and called Missy quietly. "Just don't make it weird."

"Whatever you say, dear." Kozik teased. Both of them laughed, deep and genuine as Missy army-crawled between them and settled with her head on her very own pillow.

"Punk." Tig mumbled, putting his forehead against her fur, his black curls matching the underside of her chest.

"Asshole." Kozik replied, closing his eyes and running his hand down Missy's belly. Missy nosed the top of Tig's head, then turned and licked Kozik. He was certain if she could talk, she'd tell them both to grow up.


	7. Merry

Monday at Teller-Morrow was the worst day to be hungover and yet, at least half the staff was wearing sunglasses indoors and popping Tylenol like tic-tacs. Kozik had slept really well and even though he missed the party, he found himself smirking every time Tig pulled his mechanic's shirt over his head and laid on his tool box like a sad turtle.

Chibs was sitting on one of the short, rolling stools with his head buried in his hands, looking like he was about to fall over. Maybe he had gone to sleep? Kozik chuckled and picked up an automatic drill and whirred it right by his ear.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I'm gonna send ye' to hell!" Chibs yelled as he jumped and rolled backwards on his stool.

"You not sleep well?" Kozik teased. "I don't see why. My bed is super comfortable." Kozik whirred the drill again. The Scot snatched it from his hand, opened a random drawer in his toolbox, and shoved it inside.

"Piss-" Chibs scooted even farther away from him in his rolly-seat. "Off." Another scoot and he was isolated behind the Toyota that he was currently supposed to be changing the oil in.

Kozik walked over to Tig and dropped a couple pain pills in his hand, "How ya doin'?

"Better than Chibs," He chuckled, dry swallowing the pills. "Ever had a Scottish car-bomb?"

"I don't think that's a thing." Kozik raised an eyebrow and Tig laughed again.

"Well, it is now. And I don't even know what's in it." He glanced across the garage at Chibs and shook his head. "Asshole. Never again, man, Never again."

Tig put his sunglasses back on and grabbed a wrench, turning around and popping the bolt off the inside of the piston on the Jeep in his garage bay. Kozik handed him what he needed, not saying much. The first time Tig dropped something, he went pale as soon as he bent over to get it. Kozik started doing the bending after that, not wanting to risk having to wash puke off of the customer's Jeep.

Piney came over and pulled what Kozik was positive was not a normal cigarette out of his pocket. He was his usual, cheery self and Kozik would bet he was about to be even more cheery. The old man reminded him of Santa in a way—if Santa smoked weed and had fought in Vietnam.

"Mornin' boys," He said gruffly, leaning on the Jeep. "You and the prospect have a good run?"

Kozik nodded, "Nothing out of the ordinary. Saw the warehouses you guys mentioned in church. But they still look vacant, no activity. Although, Jacob did spot tire marks in the dirt leading to the one just to the west of the campground."

"I know the place," Piney nodded. "About ten minutes from the border if you go north on main street?" When Kozik nodded he continued, "I'll tell Clay. Good job, son." He patted his shoulder and walked away towards the office. Piney was a good V.P., Kozik thought. He kept to himself and made decisions that benefited the majority—but even he could tell that the old man really didn't want the title. Ever since John Teller died, something had felt off. Piney was just filling space until Gemma's son took the throne and everyone knew it-it made him glad his home-charter was still in Tacoma. Until Jax was patched, the older members were all uneasy.

The prospect jogged up a little out of breath and hair flopping in his face. "Hey, Chibs?"

"Go away." The man said from underneath the Toyota. He had spent an awfully long time changing the oil, and Kozik would have bet anything he had fallen asleep under the car.

"Chibs, there's a-" He ran a hand through his hair and gestured outside, obviously not wanting to bring on the Scot's rare, but terrifying temper. Kozik didn't blame him. "There's—someone's askin' for you."

Chibs rolled out from under the car and looked passed the prospect, his mouth was open and ready to yell again, but he stopped. Kozik chuckled as he saw the pretty brunette from his room give him a wave before putting her bag over her shoulder.

Chibs hopped up without another word and went to her.

"Hmm, bet his hangover is better already." Tig smirked and looked over his sunglasses. "We gonna give him shit?"

"You know it." Kozik agreed. They watched as he talked to her, headache obviously forgotten as he charmed another laugh from those bright, red lips. He bent to say something in her ear and she nodded, fishing through her purse and pulling out a pen. She took his hand and scribbled along his palm, before giving him a peck and heading to her car.

Kozik would be lying if he said he didn't watch her ass along the way. When he and Tig both tilted their heads in perfect unison, he couldn't help but laugh.

Tig leaned back, both elbows on the Jeep, sun glasses pushed up into his messy hair, for a better look at Chibs. "A phone number? That's not your style, Chibs-ey."

Chibs pursed his lips and stroked his beard in an attempt to hide his blush.

"Ohh-la-la." Kozik teased, ducking as the man threw his shop towel at him.

"Go. Get. Shagged." He flipped off Kozik, Tig and the prospect individually with each word before going back to his private corner of the shop, no doubt cursing them all under his breath.

Kozik kept laughing as he rearranged the wrenches in Tig's toolbox—smallest to largest. He used a shop towel to get the spot of oil off of the largest one and tried to sound like he wasn't interested, keeping his eyes from Tig.

"So, how are the girls?" he said quietly, failing at his fake disinterest.

Tig sighed and leaned against the jeep. "Good. To Dawn, it's like I never left. But Fawn-" He rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

"Give her time, man."

"I don't think it's that simple this time around."

The amount of misery in Tig's voice made Kozik look up. His best friend was tough as nails but when it came to those girls, he was a pile of mush. Colleen was too bitter to see it, both girls were too young and Kozik would never spill such a secret to any of the club.

"It's like she's scared. Of me. But I didn't-" Tig clenched his fist and tapped his knuckles against the Jeep like he was seriously thinking about punching it, but he refrained. "Forget about it." He added, barely audible.

"Think it would help if I went with you?" Kozik shrugged and tossed the shop towel on the shelf.

"I don't know—" Tig rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "Collie all but slammed the door in my face and said we 'weren't going to do this'." He made air quotes with his hands and Kozik winced.

"Harsh."

"Tell me about it." Tig put his sunglasses back on and leaned inside the Jeep, placing a mileage sticker on the windshield so the owner would know when it was due for a check up.

He slammed the door as a small voice sounded from the front of their garage.

"Excuse me?"

Both men turned as a small, blonde knocked on the frame of Tig's garage bay, and stuck her head inside like she was on their front porch instead. She hitched her purse onto her shoulder and crossed her arms under her breasts, making her midriff top rise up enough to show her navel. Judging by the uncomfortable look she was giving them, Kozik was betting she wasn't here for an oil change.

"Whatch-ya need, doll?" Tig pushed away from the Jeep, hooking his thumbs in the edge of his belt and widening his knees, shoulders back just enough that you didn't miss his broad chest and good posture. Kozik almost snorted—that was his 'alpha-male' pose. It worked with just about anything with tits, but Kozik always found it hilarious.

"I'm looking for Jacob-" As soon as Tig removed his glasses and hooked them in the button-hole of his kutte, the blonde stumbled back, keeping her balance on her 3-inch heels with well practiced talent. She pulled up her purse and dug through the main pocket before coming out with a 2-inch can and aiming it at Tig.

"What the hell?" Tig moved back and put his hands up while Kozik widened his eyes and did the same.

"I didn't say anything. I promise. I told you. I wouldn't-" She rambled as she kept the pepper-spray aimed at Tig and pulled her bag in front of her chest like it would protect her. Kozik realized why she looked so familiar—the damn stripper from the Hippo.

"You gonna mace me, sweetheart?" Tig relaxed a bit and blew a quick puff of air from his nose in mockery.

"I didn't say anything." She repeated.

"Oh, I know you didn't. If you had—do you really think you'd be standing here?" Tig chuckled, jokingly but the girl couldn't tell the difference and her hand tightened on the can. Kozik stepped between them and gave his friend a hard look.

"Tig. You're not helping."

Tig's grin faltered and he paused. He gave Kozik a look that promised he would pay for undermining him in front of strangers but Kozik didn't care—they didn't need one of their own maced in the middle of the fucking garage.

Kozik let out a breath, slightly relieved as Tig went to the back of the garage to shoot the fat with Chibs, and turned back to the blonde.

"Sorry—um, he doesn't have a lot of manners." He tried to make light of the situation and somehow mentally coax her to put the can back in her purse. "What are you doing here?" It sounded harsh, even to him, but the sooner he found out, the sooner he could get her the hell out of Teller-Morrow.

She swallowed hard, not saying anything as she looked at Kozik like he had grown a second head. Big doe-like eyes blinked slowly at him before dropping the pepper-spray back inside her bag as her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

"I don't know what came over me." She stuttered.

Kozik waved his hands in her direction, his inner nice-guy taking over and wanting to rid her of any shame. A number of women had shown up and threatened his friend with much worse—this girl was not the first, nor would she be the last, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"Nah, don't worry about it. Tig—he's-"

"Terrifying." She said curtly and although he felt bad, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Well-" He let the phrase hang in the air, even if he disagreed, he highly doubted her could convince her otherwise. "You said you were looking for Jacob?"

"Yeah—actually, yeah." she nodded and crossed her arms again. "Won't take long—just have to drop something off. He around?"

"Yup. Come on." Kozik nodded and walked out of the garage bay. She followed, her heels clicking quickly beside him, he slowed down and headed for the clubhouse. "I didn't catch your name."

"Oh," she switched her purse to her other arm and stuck out her hand. He shook it awkwardly as they walked. "It's Merry. With an 'e'."

"As in Merry Christmas?" He smiled, unable to help it and she nodded. "Sorry—bet you get that a lot."

"Like you wouldn't believe." She finally smiled back and Kozik felt a little pride puff up inside of him.

"So, Jacob's your-"

"Little brother."

He nodded, silent for most of the short walk towards the club house, racking his brain for anything to make it less awkward.

"Kozik," He went to offer her his hand and dropped it quickly, realizing they had already done that—man, he felt stupid. "Herman."

"Seriously?" She laughed again, shorter and more deliberate, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth and gaining the red back in her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"Named after my grandfather," Kozik said and her blush got even worse—it was slightly cute.

"I'm sorry," She repeated. "It's lovely-"

"Nah," he cut her off and held open the door to the club house. "He was a mean son-of-a bitch." Kozik smiled again as he ushered her inside. "Jacob!"

The prospect was right where he thought he would be—stocking the bar. The kid had a cardboard box under each arm and was carefully sliding another across the floor with his foot. Piney would kill him if any of the bottles busted, hence the caution.

Jacob set the box on the bar and smiled, that wide flash of teeth showing just how young the prospect really was. "Merry!" He hugged her tight-'little' brother being nothing more than a title as he picked her up with ease.

"I'll leave you to it," Kozik spoke up, smoothly. He put one hand in his pocket and pointed to the blonde directly. "Don't mace anyone."

Merry laughed quietly and gave him a nod. "I can't make any promises."

Kozik returned the chuckle and put both hands in his pockets before turning on his heel. He had a feeling, that one was bound to be trouble.


	8. Starting New

A buzzing was coming from somewhere beside his ear, like a giant bumblebee that was trying to work its way inside of his brain. All Tig wanted was some peace and quiet, but apparently even that was too much to ask for. He buried his head underneath the pillow and snuggled closer to the furry warmth that was Missy at his side. She huffed, laying her muzzle on his back and thumping her tail against his side—she probably needed to go out, but like most mornings, was more patient with him than he deserved.

The buzzing continued. "Son of a bitch," Tig grumbled as he raised up and began the hunt for his phone, anything to stop the incessant vibrating. He punched the button, willing his thumb to go through the device and barked a hello into the receiver.

"Well, good morning to you too."

"Colleen," Tig said, less harshly. "Hey." He pushed himself up and scooted back enough to lean against the headboard, free hand finding its way into Missy's fur as he cleared the sleep from his throat.

"You busy?"

"No, I-"

"You just woke up, didn't you?"

Her tone of voice was motherly and he hated it. He didn't have to see her to know her hip was cocked and her eyebrows drawn together in that infuriating way. She spent ninety percent of their marriage in that pose, he was sure of it.

"Yeah."

"Must be nice."

"What do you want, Colleen?" Tig snapped, patience shorter than normal. "Did you seriously call just to rag on my bad sleeping habits?"

"Shit,"she sighed into the phone. "No."

There was a pause and Tig rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, pushing his unruly curls out of his face. "Out with it, Colleen."

"I was rude-when you came up to see the girls. Rude and I'm sorry." She all but vomited the words into the phone as they came out in one clump and hit him like a dump truck. Tig's hand stilled in Missy's fur and he sat up more, eyes staring blankly at the dresser across the room as he wondered what to say. "You still there?" She asked, as he left her hanging longer than he thought.

"Yeah, still here."

"Look, we got issues, Alex, but the girls miss their father, and you're never going to want to come if I'm a bitch."

She was right. He wanted to see the girls and was relieved that they apparently wanted to see him, but the drive didn't bother him as much as his bi-polar ex-wife did.

"What are you saying?"

"I want you to come back. Drive up for the day, see the girls—but planned this time so, I'm-" She paused and let out another breath. "Better prepared."

Tig held the phone as tightly as Piney held his favorite bottle of tequila. He could go and it could be a total disaster like before or it could be great. A rejection was on the tip of his tongue before the back of his mind thought about Kozik, thought about what his blonde-better-half would do and he swallowed his words before he even said them.

"I'm free Friday." He managed to get out.

"Friday? That's—that's perfect."Colleen stumbled, obviously as shocked a he was. "The girls have a half-day."

"Friday." He said with a nod even though she couldn't see it.

"Friday." She repeated. "Perfect. Bye, Alex."

Tig hung up and looked at Missy. Her big brown eyes focused on him as she raised up and stood on the bed, to be at eye level. She wagged her tail slowly as he stretched and let his hands lay limp in his lap.

"Think I can do this?" He said to his knees but raised his eyes, hoping Missy would give him an answer. "Think I can be a good dad?"

Missy barked and licked his face, no doubt interpreting his words as "do you want to go outside?" but Tig didn't care. He laughed and took the bark as a 'yes'.

"Always the vote of confidence from you." He ruffled her fur and wrestled her to the mattress for a bear hug and a playful good-morning before he had to face the day.

* * *

"Hey!"

Kozik jumped as Gemma kicked his boot with the front of her gold-trimmed, black wedges. He quickly took his feet off the coffee table and tossed his magazine to the side. Gemma raised an eyebrow at the issue of 'Good House-Keeping' but Kozik shrugged. All the dirty magazines in the place were old and very well-used—he would rather read about bread-making than risk touching five years of left-over jizz.

"Yeah, Gem?"

"Got a girl outside, need you to look at her Eclipse."

Kozik frowned. "I don't work here."

"She's asking for you." Gemma put her freshly manicured hands on her hips. "It's business, honey. We need it."

That was the closest thing to a 'please' that he was going to get from the queen-bee and Kozik nodded.

"Yeah, fine. I got it." He grabbed his kutte and shrugged it on as he stood.

"Use whatever you need from Tig's station. But if she gets any parts, charge her." Gemma said sternly and he nodded again.

It was another hot day on the lot of Teller-Morrow and Kozik had planned on being lazy and staying in the air-conditioning. He would have been content to drink and swap stories with Piney, who spent most of his days inside anyway due to the lack of business. Maybe it was time to start planning the trip back to Tacoma.

"Hey!" A much gentler tone said as he hit the lot and looked up. The blonde stripper was standing by a silver eclipse, battling the heat by not wearing much of anything and waving at him like they were old friends.

"Merry—right?" He smiled back and shook her hand.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Herman." She pushed her hair behind her ears and kind of twisted in place. Taking time to bite her lip before saying, "Look, I'm sorry. I know you're busy but, Jacob's gone and—I don't want anyone else to-"

"Nah, I get it." Kozik popped his knuckles and the hood of her car. "What's it doing?"

"I don't have any wiper fluid." She crossed her arms and watched as he leaned over the car and poked around.

"Did you try filling it up?" He moved a hose to the side and motioned her over. "Hold this for me."

She held the hose back from his line of sight as he slipped his hand into the mouth of the car and felt around slowly. "I did and it'll work for about a day and then it says I'm out again. I'll try to spray it and it just makes a whurrr-whurrrr noise."

Kozik chuckled, "What noise does it make? I didn't quite catch that."

She took a breath and used her throat to honk the noise again for him. "It's like a whurrr—you're making fun of me!" She laughed and hit his shoulder gently when she caught him smiling at her car-like sound effects.

"No, never." He laughed more and shook his head. He felt around some more before he made her come closer. "Put your finger over mine and when I pull back, feel this." She did as he asked, placing her much smaller, much softer fingers over his and he pulled back slower than was probably necessary.

"There's a hole!" She gasped and he nodded.

"Yup, everything you pour in there is going straight onto the ground."

"Well, damn." She wrinkled her nose at the car and pulled her hand away. "Is it expensive?"

Kozik shook his head. "I'll poke around in the back, find an old container that will fit the nozzle. Take about ten minutes after I actually find the part."

She sighed, obviously relieved that he didn't think fixing it would be a big deal. "Thank you. Do you mind if I watch?"

"Not at all." Kozik shook his head and smiled again.

About one hour, one busted knuckle and thirty curses later, Kozik had the plastic on tight and filled with new wiper fluid. Merry watched him intently, winced when he cursed and moved to help about every 5 minutes, even though she had no idea what she was doing. He appreciated the sentiment. He wiped his hands on a blue shop rag and tucked it in the back pocket of his jeans when he was finished.

"There, should be good as new." He brushed his hands on his kutte. "It's whurrrrr-whurr-ing days are over." He joked at her, pursing his lips to imitate the noise she made horribly.

She blushed, that soft pink that filled both cheeks and made him grin like a mad-man. "Thank you. What do I owe you?"

Kozik shook his head. "Don't worry about it." He didn't know why he did it, Gemma would kill him, even though the part was only worth less than 20 bucks, but he wasn't about to charge her.

"No. No charity." She stubbornly opened her purse. "Let me pay you-"

"I said 'no', alright?" Kozik insisted and she paused, frowning at him again, and lowered her purse slowly. He gave her a wink, bringing back that wonderful blush, before turning around and shutting the hood of her car firmly.

He faced her again and stepped back when she was closer than he remembered, arms crossed over her breasts and hand partially extended. A small slip of paper was held between her fingertips.

"What's this?" he took it slowly and didn't open it.

"My number. You won't let me pay? Then let me buy you a drink."

Kozik looked at the scrap of paper then back to her, no doubt looking like a fish out of water. He opened his mouth, closed it, then repeated the process, looking like a grade-A idiot. She smiled and patted his chest, right on his kutte.

"Calm down, Herman." She purred his name and he swallowed hard. "It's not a date."

"It's not?" He finally choked out, mentally slapping himself for how pathetic that sounded.

She laughed, not at him, but quiet and pretty as she climbed into her car and started it to cool it down as quickly as possible. "It's whatever you want it to be."

He tried to respond but her smile faded when she glanced over his shoulder and she put the car in drive. She drove through the gates and he turned to see Tig, awake and leaning against the garage, watching them over his glasses.

* * *

Clay came up behind Tig, leaning against the garage wall and tossing him an apple.

"What the hell is this?" Tig caught is and raised an eyebrow.

"Gemma wants us all to be healthier," Clay sighed and shook his head when Tig continued his look of confusion. "Don't ask, she's been in a weird mood lately. I told Luann to stop taping Martha Fucking Stewart for her."

Tig laughed and brushed the apple against his kutte, eyeing it like it was something strange and foreign. "I don't think fruit is going to counteract Piney's alcohol induced liver failure." He took a bite anyway and had to admit he kinda liked the loud crunch between his teeth.

He watched as the stripper drove out of the lot and Kozik stayed where he was. Two days now, that gash had shown up unannounced and it didn't sit right with him.

"That the stripper from The Hippo?" Clay said, leaning away from the wall as if to get a better look.

"Yup." Tig mumbled, taking another bite a little more roughly than the first. Kozik had bad luck with women—to be honest, they all did—but Kozik's was the worst. Untold horror stories of bad broads that took his nice-guy appeal and used it to hang him with. He racked his brain and came back with memories of the closet dominatrix with no safe-words, the married one with the cannibal husband and the secret Nazi with her own following. He kept telling the love-sick blonde, that he should quit chasing pussy and write a damn book—people would buy that shit.

"Kozik hittin' that?" Clay added, looking at Tig.

"Not to my knowledge." Tig said, hoping if his answers were short enough, Clay would drop it. Kozik had a knack for coming to him with everything—like they were having a permanent sleepover. If he was sleeping with someone new, Tig would have known.

"Keep an eye on him. If she keeps coming around—see what she knows." Clay nodded, watching Kozik like a hawk watches a mouse and Tig stood up straight.

"Nah, man. Leave it. Kozik-"

"We," Clay cut him off. "Could use her."

Tig stopped arguing. If she knew anything about the Mayans and their drug ring it could be a quick and easy way to bigger things like the Nords or even the alleged prostitution ring. Clay was right, but Tig didn't like using Kozik's possible girl to get their intel—his friend tended to get attached way too quickly.

"It'll help everyone, Tigger." Clay clapped him on the shoulder and headed back towards the office.

"Sure," Tig said, unconvinced, to no one in particular. He looked at his apple before chucking it across the fence. He felt a cold, lump im the pit of his stomach and knew it was going to be a long day.


	9. Family Time

Chapter 9:

For the last couple of days things had been strangely quiet in Charming. People had come and go, Tig had lost count of the tires he had rotated, but at least the heat seemed like it would let up soon. The Mayans and the Nords had been keeping low, and the amount of quiet building in the shadows had Tig feeling like he was about to jump out of his skin.

He held a cigarette tightly between his lips and pulled his arm back, launching a stick across the wide, green yard for Missy. To refresh all the boys, Gemma had invited everyone over to her house for a small get-together. Clay had closed the shop early, after some convincing from his old lady, and she had made enough hamburgers and her county-famous coleslaw to feed an army. Tig was pretty sure he would be full for a week.

"You excited about tomorrow?" Kozik said. He came down off of the porch and held Tig's cigarette so he could stoop and praise Missy for bringing him back the stick.

Tig paused, rubbing Missy's ears and chest with enthusiasm as she bounced and nosed his hand, practically begging him to throw the branch again. Tomorrow was Friday and he wasn't sure what to feel, but he was pretty positive it wasn't excitement.

"Yeah—excited." He took his cigarette back once Missy bounded back across the yard.

"You're worried?" Kozik crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Tig.

"Shouldn't I be?" Tig didn't want to look at Kozik so he watched as Missy dropped her stick and chased after a butterfly that was hovering around Gemma's tulips.

"Nah, just don't fuck it up."

Tig felt his heart clench. If Kozik didn't believe he wouldn't fuck up tomorrow then he didn't have a chance in hell. He turned to find his friend smiling widely, a shit-eating grin reaching all the way up to his eyes. He believed in Tig, like usual. At least that made one of them.

"Fuck you," Tig chuckled and leaned over the rail of the porch to stamp out his cigarette in the glass tray-Gemma would have all of their heads if she found any in her perfect yard.

Kozik laughed. "All I'm saying is that it's gonna be fine. Go. Have a good time. It shouldn't be a chore. Just...be with them." He made a motion with his hands in front of them like he was explaining something incredibly easy and Tig was the one making it difficult—which was true.

"How are you so damn positive all the time?" He sighed.

"I watch a lot of Oprah," Kozik shrugged without missing a beat and Tig nearly choked. "She's getting fat don't you think?"

"Shut. Up." Tig managed to spit out through his laughter. As soon as he could breathe again, he grabbed Kozik by the neck and put him in a headlock. He ruffled that fluffy, yellow hair as Missy barked and ran circles around the both of them.

"Get off!" Kozik laughed again and shoved him back only to have Missy take Tig's place in pestering him. He rubbed her down, slicking her ears back and chuckled when they sprang back to life every time.

The porch door opened and Gemma came out with a trash bag, collecting enough empty beer bottles to make a stained glass window. She declined all offers of help and seemed to take pride in mothering them all for the day. To his right, Tig caught Clay staring out the window, watching them as he smoked his cigar. He quickly looked back to Kozik.

"So—your stripper-" he started.

"My what?" Kozik asked, only half paying attention as he held Missy's paws and made her dance on her back feet. She nosed his hand happily and hopped on her hind legs wherever he led.

"That blonde gash you got coming down to TM. What's the story?"

Kozik frowned. Tig knew that look—the kind that said he was offended. Apparently this was worse than he thought.

"She's not my stripper, Tig. And her name is Merry." He let go of Missy's paws and set her on the ground gently. "With an 'e'."

"I'm not judgin' man. Nothing wrong with a the occasional skank."

"She's not a skank."

"Crow-eater then?"

"No. She's nice-"

"You don't know that.

"Well, neither do you." Kozik ended, firmly but still calm. Tig fought back a sigh. Had they lived different lives, Kozik's nice-guy, trusting routine could have landed him a quality old-lady. But they were in SAMCRO and all it did was get him into trouble. He could slap him around when he made bad choices, but he couldn't beat the niceness out of him.

Kozik was quiet for a moment before crossing his arms over his kutte again. " She want's to buy me a drink."

"You gonna go?"

"I don't know," Kozik shrugged again, barely moving his shoulders.

Tig rubbed his face, careful not to stab himself in the eye with his own wrist cuff and was silent for a minute or two. "I'm sorry. I'm sure she's great."

Kozik nodded. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and held it for a minute before putting it between his lips. He was thinking about something, Tig could tell, but he didn't ask. "Besides," Tig continued. "She might be able to help. With the Mayan thing."

"What?" Kozik didn't bother lighting the cigarette as he pulled it from his mouth and looked at Tig with confusion.

Tig shrugged, trying to be nonchalant and failing. "She was at the Hippo. Maybe she knows some stuff that goes down. It's a long shot but—who knows." He shrugged again, hoping his fake indifference would be believed if he shrugged enough.

Kozik's eyebrows drew together, "Clay put you up to this?"

"What?-" Tig blew air out through his lips in dismissal. "No, of course not."

Kozik eyed his friend for awhile before finally lighting his cigarette. As he took a deep breath, he leaned back and blew smoke, straight up, slow and lazy before saying, "You're a shitty liar."

Tig started to retaliate, cover up his unimpressive lie with something equally pathetic but was saved by the porch door opening again and the sound of Gemma's boots on the wood. She was dressed to impress—with tight black jeans and a top that showed off a great rack. The scar in the valley of her breast drew attention to them, along with the tattoo that marked her as Clay's old lady. Tig noticed it all and appreciated it. That was what she wanted, and Gemma always got what she wanted.

"Boys," she put her hands on her hips and nodded to Missy, "And girl—Luann is about to cut the pies. Come get some dessert."

As they followed her back inside the kitchen she kissed them both and patted Missy's head. Tig squeezed her waist and sighed as the door shut behind them and the air conditioning engulfed him in a comforting cloud of cool air. Luann stood at the counter, serving up slices of her famous lemon meringue pie—everyone who tried it swore it was a little piece of heaven and Tig had to agree.

Gemma patted his arm before crossing the room to Clay. Luann laughed, clear as a bell as she helped Bobby get pie crumbs from his beard. Chibs was across the hall, sneaking beers to Jax and Piney's son, Harry. It was only a few months before Gemma's son turned 21 and he along with his gentle-giant of a best friend would become prospects. To Tig, this was home—this was family, but so were his girls, and he didn't have a damn clue on how to combine the two.

"Bobby, you talk to Unser about-" Clay started, but Gemma put a finger to his lips.

"No," she said gently. "No. Save it for church. Today is a family day. You promised."

Clay eyed her, lips drawn to the side like he wanted to argue but he gave up and pulled her into his lap, nosing a few kisses against her ear. Tig smiled and shook his head, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't jealous, something that real was the goal—for all of them.

A fork clinked at his right and Happy looked at the plate like he wanted to lick it clean, "Tastes better than pussy."

Kozik choked, pie deciding to go down the wrong side and Tig laughed. "I don't know about that brother," he thumped Kozik on the back as his friend tried to remember how to breathe. "But it's pretty damn close."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Luann leaned over and took Happy's plate, giving the scary biker and motherly peck on his bald head. "Kozik, sweetie, want some more?"

"No," Kozik shook his head and slid his plate forward slowly. "No, I think I'm going to burst."

Tig chuckled and finished the last couple of bites off of Kozik's plate for him before Luann took it to the sink. He put a bit of the whipped meringue on his finger and leaned down so Missy could lap it from his hand. "Good girl," he smiled and wiped his hand on his jeans once she cleaned it.

"Oh, Tig!" Gemma said excitedly as she jumped off of Clay's lap. "I just remembered—I got Missy something."

"Don't tell me it is more of those organic dog treats," Tig turned in his stool at the bar. "You're wasting your money, I told you she won't touch them."

"She'll sniff them, then hide them in the couch." Kozik added with a laugh and Tig groaned as he remembered trying to vacuum the crumbs from the cushions.

"No, no, this is better." Gemma said as she rifled through a bag on the counter. She produced a sleek, black, diamond-studded collar with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon.

"Gem," Tig shook his head. Diamonds? Studs, maybe, but his old lady was a badass. He liked to think in another world, Missy ripped the throats of bad guys, sharpened her claws on busted skulls and ate chihuahuas for breakfast. But in the real world, his baby was a lover, a protector—his protector to be more exact.

Gemma ignored him and slipped Missy's well-worn, faded blue collar from her neck and clipped the flashy one on her, adjusting it to fit.

"There," she smiled. Missy looked from her to Tig, not offering licks of thanks but looking to dad and waiting for his approval. It looked good on her and Tig gave in and patted his lap.

"Come here, baby." He said and she scrambled across the kitchen. Her front feet went to his lap instantly and slowly, one at a time, her back feet followed until she was gathered in his arms at the counter like a kid. "Thanks, Gem." He smiled and she rubbed both of their heads.

Missy laid her head on his shoulder and watched the people move around the kitchen, big brown eyes following lazily as Tig rubbed his hand up and down the length of her back. He did this for awhile, leaning his head against her and letting everyone else fade into the background.

"And you say I spoil her." Kozik leaned towards him and mumbled quietly.

Tig chuckled and turned slowly on the bar stool so Missy didn't think he was going to drop her and faced Kozik. "You should go. You know—get that drink with your strip-" he coughed and corrected himself, "With Merry."

Kozik looked like Tig had just tried to sew his head to the living room carpet. Tig closed his eyes again against Missy, trying to act nonchalant, he didn't feel like watching as Kozik fought not to bear hug him on the spot for something as trivial as his approval of a piece of gash.

"Thanks, man." Kozik said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah. Go get me a beer." Tig waited until Kozik had left the counter and was buried in the fridge before opening one eye and finally cracking a smile.


	10. First Dates, First Mistakes

Chapter 10:

"Where's your—never mind, found it!" Kozik called from down the hall and Tig shook his head. He tossed a couple of cola cans into the trash and leaned against the counter, glancing at the clock. It felt like the hands hadn't moved and he still had plenty of time to make it down to Colleen's.

Tig turned around and Kozik came back into the kitchen, showered and trading his kutte for a grey button down that matched his stormy eyes. Tig chuckled and crossed his arms.

"What?" Kozik asked hesitantly, looking down at his appearance for something funny.

"Nothin'." Tig smiled and shook his head.

Kozik brushed him off and went to the fridge to get a beer. He was already nervous for some reason and Tig was not helping.

"You smell like a French hooker." Tig added.

"Got it from your cabinet." Kozik retorted.

Tig sat at the counter as Kozik closed the fridge. He should probably head out soon, but instead he found himself entranced by the 'snake' game on his Nokia. The little block line ate its little block food-even though it didn't have a mouth-and Tig moved his thumbs accordingly, cursing when he ran the animal into the side of the screen.

Kozik was staring at him and he finally gave in and looked up. "You sure you don't wanna go?" Tig all but pleaded and Kozik shook his head.

"Look, I'd love to see them, but today is about you and your girls. Colleen called and invited you down. I don't think she'd be happy if I came in the door too." He chuckled trying to lighten the mood but he was right. Tig nodded.

Tig was quiet for a moment, then sighed, "Remember when Fawn was born?"

"You mean the night we almost duked it out in the hospital parking lot?"

Tig nodded again and put his phone in his pocket. The night Fawn was born had been something straight from a nightmare. He had paced a trail from Colleen's hospital room to the lobby, unable to decide where he wanted to be. It had taken hours and they had poked and prodded and took readings from his wife that he didn't understand but was always told everything was 'normal'.

When Fawn had finally come out and been cleaned, they tried to hand her off to him and he bolted. He practically ran out of the hospital with the sound of Colleen's screams for him haunting him even after he made it out into the cool, night air.

"Do you remember what you said to me?" Tig propped his head on his fist and looked at his friend.

Kozik thought about it for a bit then shook his head. "No, I don't."

That night Kozik had chased him out into the alley behind the hospital. Tig was plastered to the brick wall, feeling like the entire building was sitting on top of his chest and he couldn't seem to get enough air. He looked at his hands as they shook in front of them, hands that had seen war, done terrible things and those nurses had almost handed him something as fragile as a new born.

"You told me," Tig sat up straight and squared his shoulders. "'To get up. Man up—and go back inside or you would kick my ass so hard, I would be lucky we were already at the hospital.' and then you grabbed me by the front of my shirt and said-"

"'That's an order soldier.'" Kozik finished as the memory came back to him. "You always outranked me."

"Not that night, I didn't." Tig said. He didn't want to be a father, he wanted to get on his Dyna and disappear and Kozik had all but swallowed the keys. From that moment on, his best friend had become 'Uncle Kozik'. And the girls adored him.

Kozik came around the counter to pat his shoulder. "Go. Have a great time. And when you see them again, let me know and I'd love to tag along." He reached into the bowl and tossed Tig his motorcycle keys.

"You gonna be back in time to let Missy out?" Tig asked as he got up and grabbed his kutte.

"Yeah. I'm not leaving for awhile and then I should be back pretty soon."

"You taking her out on the bike?" Tig raised an eyebrow.

"No, of course not. Can I-?" He paused.

Tig tossed him the keys to the Jeep. "No blow jobs in the back of my Jeep."

"Tig-"

"And none on my couch either. I don't want Missy scarred for life."

"Tig! It's just a drink."

"Uh-huh. Have fun." Tig shrugged on his kutte and rubbed Missy, kissing the tip of her nose in good-bye. "There's treats on top of the fr-" At the word 'treat' Missy scrambled into the kitchen and stood on her back legs barking at the top of the fridge. Tig chuckled, "She'll show you where they are."

Kozik hollered a goodbye and followed Missy into the kitchen as the Dyna started up outside and roared down the driveway.

* * *

Kozik was proud to say he had only had one beer and after a silent pep talk from Missy, was able to leave the house. He even made it to the bar with 5 minutes to spare—when he had offered to pick Merry up and she had politely declined. It wasn't a date after all.

"Herman!" She waved him over and patted the bar stool beside her, setting down her glass as he leaned in to shake her hand. She laughed and brushed his arm away, hugging him quickly instead. "Wow." She smiled.

"What?" He looked around confused for a moment before she shook her head and clarified.

"You clean up nice. Want a beer?" She waved down the bartender as he nodded.

"How, uh-" He finally sat and ran a hand through his hair. "How's your car?"

"It's great." She smiled and slid his beer into his hands. "No more weird noises. You're a car-magician. How long have you worked at Teller-Morrow?"

"I don't actually."

"What? But I thought-"

"Yeah, I'm just in town for a bit. Helping the charter and Tig." Kozik watched as Merry nodded and became silent, no doubt feeling guilty about having him fix her car now. He didn't mind, really, most days around the garage became pretty boring.

"But aren't you a Son?" She gestured to his chest, absent the kutte but he still understood what she meant.

"Yeah, just belong to the Tacoma charter."

"Oh—Tacoma? I hear it's lovely up there." She took the stirring straw out of her drink and sucked it before setting it on the napkin.

"It is." He took a drink and watched the bubbles around the neck of the bottle. She kept eying his chest and Kozik felt uncomfortable. She was no doubt missing the kutte and like always was taking him out because of the patch. Tig probably would have thought it was hilarious but Kozik felt nauseous.

"Is Jacob getting patched soon?" She blurted and he thought he might as well leave now. It was obvious, if she buttered up a full-fledged member, her little brother would have a leg up.

"I don't know. Not my charter, not my call. Why?" He said, fighting to keep any bitterness out of his voice.

Merry sighed and crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt before leaning into him. "Can I tell you something?"

"I guess." He turned as well, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't want him patched." She admitted and the knot in his stomach became slightly smaller.

"What?"

"I know it's awful of me and it's something he wants but," she sighed and pulled her hair to one side. "I don't like it. N-nothing against you. But I worry about him and it's dangerous and—I'm being stupid aren't I?"

Kozik set down his beer and only wished he could have thought of a comforting phrase quicker than he did. "No—no you're not. I get it. It's another world. It's not just a club, it's a life. But, Jacob knows that."

"I'm still going to worry." She sighed.

"Well, yeah. Nothing wrong with that." Kozik smiled probably bigger than he should of as a lot of his initial worry left his gut completely.

She smiled, obviously relieved now that her secret was out on the table and took another drink. "So, any kids?"

"Me? Well," he shook his head. "Two nieces, well sorta. Tig's girls."

"Tig has children?" She raised an eyebrow and he nodded, quickly changing the subject.

"What about you?"

"No—not me. I barely go out, let alone something as serious as kids."

"Not a lot of nice guys in your line of work?" He winced as soon as he said the sentence and had the strong urge to put his shoe in his mouth to keep from doing it again. "I'm sorry-"

"No," she shook her head. "You're right. There aren't." They both looked at their drinks, Merry poking the lime around in her ice as Kozik picked at the label on the bottle with his nail. The silence was almost uncomfortable before Merry turned and said suddenly, "You wanna split some cheese fries?"

Kozik snorted into his beer, recovering enough to smile at her. "God, yes." He watched as she ordered and put another round on her tab. It wasn't the best start but the smell of wonderfully greasy appetizers held plenty of promise.

* * *

A handful of drinks, and the best cheese fries he had had in his entire life, later and Kozik was walking out into the parking lot with Merry on his arm.

"So let me get this straight, you wanted to be an architect?" She looked at him and squeezed his forearm as her heels hit the black top.

"I don't know. I mean yeah, kinda, sorta—maybe." He rubbed the back of his neck, he couldn't believe he told her that. "But math fucking sucks." They both laughed quietly and stopped in front of Tig's Jeep.

Merry held her purse by her side, looking from the Jeep to Kozik. Her lip was between her teeth again as she brushed an unruly lock of blonde hair back behind her ear. She turned slightly, the gravel crunching under her heels before finally facing him and asking, "You're a nice guy, right?"

Kozik paused. It was a simple question but at the same time it was anything but simple. He was a Son, they all did the best they could, some more than others, but he led the life, a life he was sure she would never know about. Guns, whores, blood, all came to the front of his mind and he shoved them aside and gave her what small truth he could. "I try," he said sheepishly and she nodded.

"Take me home?"

Kozik smiled before he could stop himself. "What about your car?"

"I'll ask Jacob to pick it up in the morning."

Well, then," he opened the door and offered his help for her to get up over the foot rail. He went back around to his side, hopping in and starting the engine and saying with what he was sure was another stupid grin. "Which way?"

* * *

Merry's place was a small, one bedroom duplex. The brick was lit by the fluorescent bulb over hanging the one car garage—white door, trim and shutters seemed pretty bland when paired with the cookie cutter version of the one next door and the minimal shrubbery by the mailbox. But the bottom line was that it wasn't shabby, it was quaint.

Kozik rocked slightly on his heels, hands in his pockets, quietly observing as Merry unlocked the door. She had politely asked him inside and he had been unable to tell her no with the understanding that he couldn't stay too long—Missy was at home waiting and probably bored to death.

She showed him the small foyer and he got a glimpse into the living room before she took him into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He really didn't want any but was almost positive she was just being formal. He leaned on the counter and was studying her duck wall paper when her soft laughter brought him back to the present.

"What?" he raised an eyebrow and moved away from the fridge.

"You know, it's okay to ask. You've been dancing around the topic all night." She smiled again and opened a cabinet.

"Ask what?"

"About my job."

Oh. Kozik twisted his watch around his wrist and thought for a moment. She was right, he had avoided it on purpose at the bar but it wasn't because he was embarrassed for her—he just didn't know what to say. He still didn't and she swooped in to save him from saying anything else stupid.

"I've been at it about a year. Only been at the Hippo a few months. My manager's a dick." She laughed again and crossed her arms, leaning back against the sink. She talked as if she was something more mundane and it made Kozik relax a little.

"Why?" Kozik asked and she interpreted his less than impressive conversation skills with ease.

"I like it," She shrugged. "Dancing, I mean. And it pays really well. I don't have daddy issues. I don't think all men are evil—it's just a job."

Kozik nodded again and all he could think about was the conversation he had with Tig in Gemma's front yard. He had been quiet for too long and had to say something though, "Do you like the Hippo?"

She shrugged again. "Not that many strip joints near Charming. I'd have to move for more options."

He didn't know much about the Purple Hippo—all the places he normally ventured on weekends where with his brothers in Tacoma. The night with Tig was his first time there but for some reason he almost felt bad for being unable to say he had ever seen Merry dance.

"From what I saw it looked—I mean it was just—it was kinda—do you ever see anything weird?"

"What?" She set a mug down on the counter and faced him.

"I mean, there were lots of Mexicans around when we came in and it's not Mayan territory. Notice anything out of the ordinary lately?"

"I'm not sure I know what you're asking." Merry shook her head and shut the cabinet fairly hard.

"You know, like gang-stuff. Trade offs. Drugs, maybe?"

Kozik couldn't stop himself. It was like word vomit. He thought about the club, about what Tig had said and about how any information could get Clay off his back for at least a minute. Merry's shoulders had gone rigid and he wish he would have just kept his mouth shut. He should have drank her stupid coffee, kissed her, sucked his thumb, anything that would have kept him quiet and not allowed him to ruin everything.

"Is this what tonight was? Pumping me for information?"

"Well, I mean if you noticed anything we could help with-"

"I can't believe this. What—they send you because you weren't the one that put a gun in my mouth?" Her light blue eyes had darkened as she moved away from the counter and crossed her arms over her breasts.

"No—that's not-" he tried but she shook her head.

"I think you should leave." She said quietly and walked to the door. He followed after a second, unable to think of anything comforting to make her let him stay.

"Merry-"

"Please—go." she tucked her hair behind her ears and curled in on herself. She didn't want to hear it.

As the door closed quietly behind him, he stood on the porch in the dark of the evening. She locked the door, turned off the porch light and didn't bother checking to see if he was in his car or not before he heard her receding foot steps. He held his keys and looked at the Jeep before climbing in an slamming the door much harder than was needed. Tig was going to love hearing about this.


End file.
